


Room Number 3 (Part 2 of 3)

by lyryk (s_k)



Series: Room Number 3 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, Dom/sub, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:19:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/pseuds/lyryk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo takes a night off from hunting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room Number 3 (Part 2 of 3)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ryuutchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuutchi/gifts).



The Domme cracks a whip and Jo starts, her senses sharpened by the blindfold that’s still wrapped snugly over her eyes. A moment later, she’s almost ready to giggle at what a cliché they must look like—one of them stripped and tied to the bed and the other brandishing a whip, much like the corny sketch in the club’s neon sign outside.

‘Something funny?’ the other woman asks, and Jo realizes she hasn’t been quite successful in stifling her nervous amusement.

‘It’s just.’ Jo settles into her bonds, wrists rubbing together in their cuffs above her head, her feet snug in oddly comfortable restraints, anchored to the ends of the bed, leaving her spread wide open. 

‘Just what?’ The words are murmured into her hair, the whip now trailing lazily between her breasts. 

Jo turns her head on the pillow, following the voice, and is rewarded by a light brush of lips against hers. ‘Sorry, Ma’am,’ she says against a mouth that tastes like strawberry gloss. ‘It won’t happen again.’

The Domme chuckles. ‘It’s Bela, by the way.’ She kisses Jo again, slow and deep, and the whip trails lower, brushing against Jo’s newly-shaven flesh.

‘You always keep yourself shaved?’ Bela asks, lightly tracing patterns with the handle of the whip, barely skimming Jo’s skin. ‘Or did you do it just for tonight? Tell the truth, now.’

‘Just—just for tonight,’ Jo manages, thrusting her hips up, mindlessly chasing the pressure that withdraws when she moves. ‘Fuck, Bela, I need—I need more. Please.’ There’s no part of her that’s detached from this, the hunter in her relishing the rare pleasure of a safe environment, a safe person to give herself up to. The music from the dance floor’s barely audible here, in this small room where there’s barely enough space for her to breathe, but she can feel its slow, pounding beat vibrating faintly through the bed and the wallpaper behind her scrabbling fingertips.

‘Thought this was what you wanted.’ Bela traces the length of Jo’s wet slit with the handle of the whip, deliciously slow, as perfect as anything Jo’s ever imagined. She pauses briefly at Jo’s clit, letting her gasp and writhe against the wood before pulling it away. ‘Frustration. Denial. Hm?’

‘Please,’ Jo says, not above whimpering and begging. ‘Please, I want—’

‘What?’ Bela asks against Jo’s throat, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses there, her hand pressing the rough length of the whip’s handle right where Jo wants it most, rubbing it slowly back and forth. ‘What do you want, baby?’

‘Wanna see you.’ Jo groans as she’s allowed to hump against the rounded wood. She’s almost there, almost but not quite. She’s too wet, her flesh slipping against the wood. 

‘All in good time.’ The whip slithers to the floor, instantly forgotten as two of Bela’s fingertips find Jo’s clit and rub against it, the friction perfectly blissful. 

‘Like that?’ Bela asks. She brings her wet fingers up to Jo’s mouth, slipping them between her lips. ‘Taste yourself.’

Jo sucks blindly, mindless with need, her hips moving frantically against empty air. ‘Put them back,’ she begs, her words garbled around the fingers in her mouth. ‘Please—need—please.’

‘As you wish.’ Bela’s fingers return to Jo’s clit, manipulating it with practised ease, and Jo screams out her orgasm into the hand clamped firmly over her mouth.

 

(tbc)


End file.
